


Domestic Bliss

by randomquixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomquixen/pseuds/randomquixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain elements about Derek and Stiles' relationship that still need working out, but there are definitely some things that are working pretty damn good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a series of one shots about their relationship followed by a seriously angsty piece of taking people for granted and what it means to be the perfect boyfriend, but then the show got bad and I lost interest in Stiles and Derek when Derek was no longer part of the show and I didn't have any new material to spark my interest in them again. 
> 
> (I may not have seen any of the show after the dead pool season.... I'm sorry).
> 
> So Instead I'll just post everything I already have written for this piece (as well as a reposting of the toothpaste incident since it belongs in the series) and treat it as a cohesive story where nothing bad ever happens and Derek and Stiles just get to have some nice time.
> 
> Maybe I'll come back and finish that angsty portion as well as some of the other snipits I had planned, but we'll see

The toothpaste incident--

 

Stiles picked up his toothbrush and the brand new tube of toothpaste before pausing and staring at them thoughtfully.

“Derek,” Stiles said, shoving both the brush and the tube in Derek’s face when he entered the bathroom.

Derek raised his eyebrows at the items and looked skeptically at Stiles, “I am not doing crap like this for you, Stiles.” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Show me how you do it.” Stiles said, raising his own eyebrows expectantly.

“You know how to put toothpaste on a toothbrush, Stiles.” Derek huffed.

“No,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes, “show me how _you_ do it.”

Derek rolled his eyes but pressed his lips together and took both the brush and the paste without another word. He held the brush carefully between two fingers before pressing his thumbs on the bottom of the tube, pressing the paste out onto the toothbrush.

He handed the brush and paste back to a calculating Stiles.

“Happy?” Derek asked sarcastically.

“Ecstatic,” Stiles replied, but he wasn’t paying attention to Derek. Stiles screwed the tooth paste cap back on with intense concentration.

“Are you going to explain to me what that was about?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“What?” Stiles asked, drawn back from whatever he was thinking about, “Oh yeah, I was just thinking that I am a squeeze anywhere type of guy when it comes to toothpaste and something about you screamed calculated toothpaste user and I figured that I could change my habits if it would make you happy. So from now on, instead of squeezing anywhere, I will always press from the bottom. It’s a small thing, but I keep thinking that the little things build up and I would rather this be a good little thing than a bad little thing. Maybe one day it will tip the scales one way or the other, like maybe this will be the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. But in a good way.” He added.

Derek stared wordlessly at Stiles who was carefully putting the toothpaste back in the drawer, not even paying attention to the effect this concept was having on Derek.

Derek took the toothbrush from Stiles and set it down on the counter before grabbing Stiles’ shoulders and slamming their bodies together, kissing the breath from both of them.

When they eventually pulled away, Derek whispered into the air between them, “that was the most weirdly romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” he said and Stiles seemed surprised.

“Just wait until we talk about toilet paper preferences.”

 

 

 

Cleaning--

 

Stiles sailed through the apartment, picking up clutter as he went.

“Writer’s block?” Derek asked, from his spot on the couch.

“I just need to vacuum, then I can start writing again.” Stiles called from where he had started rooting through the closet.

“Do you need help?” Derek asked, turning the page in his book.

“Nope!” Stiles said, emerging victorious with the vacuum and some Clorox wipes. “I just figure I’ll clean for a while and then when everything is settled I’ll get back to work.”

“You cleaned two days ago.”

“That was two days ago! You’ve seen how your wolves tromp through here, bringing in dirt and leaves and dirtying our dishes. I always need to clean.”

Derek smiled and focused on his book again.

 

Three hours later the entire house was spotless, even the bathroom was shining even though Derek had splattered everything with mud after the full moon yesterday.

“There’s nothing left to clean.” Stiles moaned, throwing himself across the (spotless) table. Stiles sent a look to his laptop before turning back to Derek with a far more interested gaze.

Stiles slowed his walk and started swinging his hips in a way he was convinced was sexy but Derek just found hilarious. Stiles dropped down in front of Derek and put his hands in Derek’s lap.

“Hey,” Stiles said, his voice coming out breathy.

“Stiles.” Derek said warningly.

“You know, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you naked.”

Derek snorted and turned the page in his book, but his focus was elsewhere.

Stiles reached forward and popped the button on his jeans. “I think I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have your dick in my mouth.”

Derek held on to his book with white knuckles as Stiles leaned forward and breathed hot air onto his dick. If he held onto the book, he was still being a good boyfriend by not actively distracting Stiles from writing.

Stiles started sucking on the revealed cotton of Derek’s underwear and Derek lost all pretense, dropping the book and threading his fingers into Stiles’ hair.

Stiles smirked but didn’t say anything as he pulled Derek’s briefs out of the way with an excited look, almost as if he was wrapping a present.

“After this you are going to work on your book.” Derek groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Stiles said, waving one hand while the other started caressing down the length of Derek’s cock.

Derek kind of lost track after that, but when he came back to himself, the apartment was clean, he was sated from a very thorough blow job, and Stiles was nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a very persistent clacking that sounded a lot like a keyboard and occasional murmur of a very preoccupied writer.

Derek picked his book back up and continued reading about what Scout and Jem were getting up to and only briefly wondered what the plan was for dinner.

 

 

 

The Morning Routine--

 

*Beep beep beep*

Derek promptly fell back asleep after the frantic beeping stopped, too stubborn to simply wake up when the dreadful beeping machine told him to.

He felt the mattress dip and then spring back as Stiles rolled out of bed and then he was too unconscious to be aware of much else.

After another fifteen minutes, five of which he spent listening to the steady stream of water from the shower, he finally stumbled out of bed and wandered downstairs.

He went into the kitchen and found the coffee machine had already finished gurgling, the same as every morning. They were both too cheap (stupid) to buy (use) a coffee maker that had automatic settings to make coffee at a preset time, so Stiles got up every morning and set it running before he got in the shower. In exchange, Derek pulled out the instant oatmeal out of the cupboard, mixing one packet of apple cinnamon with one of maple sugar and pouring in way more milk than the box called for and set the bowl in the microwave.

Derek didn’t turn it on until he heard Stiles get out of the shower because he knew it would still take ten minutes for him to get dressed and so long as Derek timed it right, it wouldn’t be undercooked or too cold by the time Stiles got to it.

Derek went into the fridge and pulled out the fruit and vegetables that Stiles had already cut up and set them on the counter, pulling the blender forward and starting to prepare his protein shake.

Derek was just measuring the protein powder when he heard the medicine cabinet creep open, a sure sign Stiles was nearing the last of his routine and Derek entered two minutes on the microwave and finished with his powder.

About three minutes later Stiles came down and pulled his oatmeal out of the microwave, grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table.

“We need more protein powder and more carrots.” Derek said, pouring the shake into a glass.

“Add it to the list,” Stiles said, not looking up from the magazine he was perusing while he ate.

Derek grabbed a pen and added them to the list on the fridge before he went and sat down at the table to “eat” with Stiles.

Derek would have been just as happy standing and drinking, but there was a nice kind of companionship that came with sitting at the table together.

As soon as he was seated, Stiles wrapped his socked foot around Derek’s ankle but didn’t otherwise react.

“I’ll go to the grocery store today if you do laundry.” Stiles proposed, looking up from the magazine.

Derek smiled a little because Stiles made it sound like they were striking a deal even though they both knew how much Derek hated grocery shopping. The older ladies of the town always seemed to seek him out in the store and trap him in an aisle forcing him into talking about his life. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to escape them once they caught his scent.  Stiles had managed to find a way to avoid them and was surprisingly picky about his food choices.

Derek on the other hand was picky about how laundry was done. There was something about being a werewolf that made you extra sensitive to the amount of powder that was added to a load of laundry and he hadn’t yet managed to teach Stiles how to figure it out.

It didn’t particularly matter because they had taken to just doing the jobs as a given, but it was always nice when Stiles asked instead of assuming as Derek was sometimes wont to do.

“Sure,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles’ hand quickly before getting up and setting his glass in the sink. He went upstairs to brush his teeth and then shower.

When he came back down twenty minutes later, now ready for work, Stiles was already gone, the dishes were in the dishwasher and there was a little note stuck to the fridge that announced Derek’s lunch was inside and that Stiles loved him.

Derek smiled and picked up the note, sticking it in a drawer with all the others, then grabbing his coat, his lunch, and his briefcase and heading to work himself.

 

 

 

No Good, Very Bad Day--

 

Derek slammed open the door, through his jacket at the chair, and kicked off his shoes, practically stomping as he moved into the apartment.

Derek heard clanging pots and the slam of cupboard doors in the kitchen and he followed the noise there.

Stiles was on his hands and knees digging through the cupboard they kept cooking dishes in and any other day Derek would make fun of Stiles for having as many dishes as he did considering he almost never used them, but today was not that type of day.

Derek stood rigidly next to the kitchen island and waited for Stiles to notice him.

“Have you seen that big square dish with the sunflowers on it? The one that was missing its lid? Cause I found the lid but now I can’t find the dish. This is such a metaphor for my life.” Stiles continued to ramble as he stood up and turned around, but froze when he looked at Derek’s face.

“Couch.” Stiles commanded, and Derek didn’t even hesitate. He walked to the couch, maneuvered the pillows to his liking and then lied flat, and stared at the ceiling while he waited for Stiles to finish up in the kitchen.

“Okay,” Stiles said, coming into the family room and picking up Derek’s feet so he could sit under them on the couch. “I would like to preface this talk with the fact we are getting take-out from Louise’s tonight and I am ordering you that weird pasta salad you like no matter how many calories and grams of fat it is.”

Derek huffed but didn’t say anything. This was mostly ritual at this point and Derek was too stressed to make small talk.

Stiles flexed his fingers and then took off Derek’s socks.

“Talk.” Stiles commanded and then pressed his thumbs into the center of Derek’s arch and Derek tried not to moan.

“The bitch Debra from advertising came after me today for not being involved enough at work and the convincing the rest of the staff, in front of my boss, that I needed a heavier work load if I wasn’t going to be a ‘part of the team’ when I wasn’t in the office.”

Stiles made the appropriate scoffing noise at Debra and then stayed silent while Derek ranted about how horrible she was and how it was all just lash back from when he turned her down two years ago and how everyone found out, which was why she was convinced Derek stole the promotion from her.

Derek went on and on and Stiles just sat and listened and rubbed the tension out of Derek’s feet until Derek was loose limbed and had run out of steam.

“I just have no idea what to do. I can’t report her because she hasn’t actually done anything wrong, I can’t fight back because they will think I’m using my position of power to torment her, and I can’t kill her because it’s illegal and I don’t think I have a good enough plan to hide her body.” Derek snarled.

“If it comes to murder I’ll help with your alibi, and we’ll say you were with my dad too, which will really throw off the city investigators.” Stiles said, giving Derek’s heels a good squeeze.

Derek smiled lightly and snuggled further into the couch.

Stiles stood up and stretched before heading back into the kitchen.

“I’m going to call Pete’s and I’ll be back out in a minute. Don’t fall asleep or you’ll miss pasta salad!” Stiles called.

Derek listened to Stiles on the phone and breathed in the scent of them living together and felt what little stress was left, fade from his body. It was good to have someone to talk to, someone to listen to him and when had days like this. He’d spent so much of his life after the fire and after Laura trying to  convince himself he was fine on his own, but he was a pack creature and wouldn’t ever be able to make it as a lone wolf. He was endlessly glad he had someone to care for him.

 

The next day when Derek opened his lunch, he found a serving of leftover pasta salad and a note from Stiles.

_I love you and I’ve thought of some great places to hide Debra’s body should it come up again. Try not to kill her in front of witnesses, but if you have to, we’ll steal my dad’s cruiser and put them in the trunk so there is no chance of us getting pulled over with multiple bodies in the car._

_PS: if you make it through the whole day without killing anyone, we can try that thing we talked out the other day, cause you know, I’m a try anything once kind of guy, even anything in bed. ;)_

 

 

 

 

The Couch--

 

“Derek, I love you very much, but we have a problem.” Stiles announced, perching precariously on the edge of the tiny couch to sit next to Derek.

“What?” Derek asked, not looking up from his book.

“We need a couch.”

Derek didn’t move. “You’re sitting on a couch.”

“Derek, look at me.” Derek looked up. “This is not a couch. This is a black zen couch _pretender_ that _lies_ about being a couch so it can trick you into sitting on it and then slowly breaks down your will to live with its rock-like cushions and cold, menacing leather.”

 Stiles jabbed accusing at the cushion as if to prove his point. The cushion did not react.

“Stiles we have a perfectly good couch, it is not menacing and leather is easier to clean than fabric when you get blood on it.”

“But you agree that it’s uncomfortable!” Stiles said, jumping to his feet like he’d won something. “To Ikea!” he called, pointing forward and charging the door.

Derek snorted, but rolled to his feet, cracking his back when he stood because his muscles cramped horribly whenever he sat too long. But it was _just_ from sitting, it had nothing to do with the couch. The couch was perfectly good and black and leather. Sure it was a little new age for his tastes, and yeah, the back didn’t quite go high enough, so sometimes Derek had crouch forward or sprawl awkwardly back to sit in it, but that didn’t make it a _bad_ couch.

Derek would only go to humor Stiles. The couch was staying. It was final.

 

The couch was totally going.

Literally every single couch he’d sat on in the last hour had been infinitely more comfortable, even despite the smell of Ikea and strange customers permeating all the fabrics. Not even his disgruntled nose could fight the fact that everything this store sold was better than the fancy ass sofa he currently owned.

God, even the ugly woods themed couch was better than his unloving monstrosity of fabric and wood that pretended to be a couch and currently sat in his living room.

It didn’t help that Stiles’ constant ranting against the current sofa was seeping into his brain. It resulted in descriptors like unloving monstrosity and fancy ass.

“What about this one?” Stiles called, bouncing in front of a blue flannel couch. Derek didn’t even know they made that type of thing.

“No.”

“Why?” Stiles wined, throwing himself on top of it and griping the cushions for dear life.

“Because it’s flannel?”

“You’re unholy hatred of flannel is not a good enough reason to veto this. Try again.” Stiles called, burying himself into the fabric.

“Its flannel and I will bleed all over it at the earliest opportunity and then you will never get it clean. You will spend hours of writing procrastination time scrubbing at it and inevitably stain the thing with bleach and then we’ll have to buy a new couch or recover this one wasting time and money and you will lose your job because you can’t focus on anything but the stain. It will be just like the pillow incident last winter.”

Stiles popped out of the cushions to glare at Derek. “We don’t talk about The Pillow Incident, Derek. I can’t sleep without my pillow. That was a miserable month and a half.”

“I know. Which is why we can’t buy this couch.”

“But Derek!” Stiles started to whine, “Its flannel!”

“Stiles…” Derek said warningly.

“Fine,” Stiles sighed, but perked up almost immediately. “Oh! Look at that one.” And sprinted off towards something red and heinous.

 

Two hours later, Derek was tired and hated couches again and was suddenly perfectly okay with the stab of wood-like byproduct he called his couch if it meant leaving this God Damn Store. He suddenly understood that joke about how Ikea employees don’t apply, it’s just customers that got lost too long in the store and were eventually given a shirt and told to help out.

“Okay Derek,” Stiles said, suddenly right behind him and practically throwing himself over Derek’s back. “I’m tired and I _know_ you are too, so I saved the best for last.”

“Stiles…” Derek grumbled, almost refusing to look at another couch for the rest of his life.

“Come on.” Stiles cajoled, tugging Derek’s hand.

Stiles led Derek to a soft black leather couch. It was a huge corner sofa with a built in chaise that could easily seat the entire pack even if most of them were lying down.

“Okay, so easy clean up with the leather, black to match your brooding soul. Big enough to seat everyone and we don’t have to look into love seats or, horror upon horror, look at chairs. And, best part, look,” Stiles sprawled across the center of the sofa.

“What?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as Stiles scooched himself against the back of the sofa.

“Come here.” Stiles called, making grabby hands to Derek.

“I can see perfectly fine from here.” Derek said, standing his ground and crossing his arms.

“No you can’t or you would already be lying down.” Stiles demanded and then just generally flailed his arms as if it would help him.

Derek just sighed and laid down next to Stiles on the couch. The fit was a little tight, but Derek could lie completely on his back and Stiles could still stay next to him while lying on his side. The couch was just deep enough that they could both fit on it comfortably despite their cumulative bulk.

“It’s perfect.” Stiles said dreamily, and then proceeded to flop his weight half on top of Derek and bury his nose in Derek’s neck.

Derek huffed a laugh and didn’t move other than to close his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep, we’re in Ikea.” Stiles mumbled, halfway to sleep himself.

“It’s a comfortable couch.” Derek decided, sinking into the cushions a little more.

“Best. Decision. Ever.” Stiles sighed, snuggling more into Derek.

“The couch?” Derek tried to clarify.

“A lot of things.” Stiles laughed and then kissed him.

 

They fell asleep in Ikea.

In their defense, they had gotten up early, and been up late the night before, and four hours at Ikea would exhaust anyone. All those weird Dutch words that they couldn’t pronounce but had to remember and the long, wandering paths through areas they didn’t need to see but couldn’t avoid without losing themselves in the confusion that was Ikea.

So anyway, an employee eventually woke them up, but possibly after taking pictures of them sleeping together on the couch, which was slightly creepy and invasive and Derek maybe wanted a copy of the picture, but didn’t ask because hey, he just fell asleep in an Ikea and probably shouldn’t be asking employees for pictures of the transgression.

Nonetheless, they bought their ridiculously large couch and had it delivered the next day at which point Stiles took a needlessly long writing break to unpack everything and set it all up.

When it was done Stiles flopped on the couch and called Derek over.

“Lie with me.” Stiles called, trying to make his voice high pitched and lady-like. It failed. Miserably.

Derek went anyway.

“Okay,” Stiles said, letting Derek pillow his head on Stiles’ arm. Stiles immediately buried his fingers in Derek’s hair and started scratching lightly at Derek’s scull. “We need to talk about the old couch.”

“What about it?” Derek asked, burying his head further into Stiles’ chest and being about as close to purring as any werewolf was capable.

 “We should burn it.” Stiles said, glaring at the offending furniture. 

“We’re not burning it.”

“Then we should give it to someone we hate. Like Jackson. OR PETER!” Stiles yelled, jumping up on the couch, planning how he would move something so heinous to someone so heinous.

“We are not giving it to Jackson and I am not sending a couch to a psych ward.” Derek said, curling his arm around Stiles’ chest and pulling him a little bit closer.  

“So what is your idea for it?” Stiles asked, glaring at the sofa mutinously.

“Good Will?” Derek asked.

“We are not inflicting that thing on the poor and needy.” Stiles said. “Don’t we know anyone who we hate enough to donate it to?”

“I’ll just put it in the back room until we find something to do with it.” Derek said, picking up the couch and supporting it awkwardly as he walked it to the back room.

“Back room…” Stiles huffed, “You mean junk room where we throw crap you’re are sure we are going to need again.”

Currently in said room was things like the extra pieces from the new couch that they couldn’t figure out where they went, but would inevitably discover did something super important, like hold the couch together.

“It might come in handy.” Derek joked, ignoring Stiles’ comment.

“Sure it will.” Stiles mocked.

 

It came in handy.

Stupid gnomes were plaguing the preserve and they used to the couch to get rid of them.

They stuffed the cushions full of artificial sugar to draw the gnomes in and then C4 to blow the gnomes up.

It worked surprisingly well.

Also Stiles got to watch his least favorite couch in all of creation blasted to smithereens and stamped out the flaming pieces himself.

When all the mess was cleaned up and the gnomes were truly gone, Stiles ran up to Derek.

“Derek, Derek, guess what?”

“What?”

“I got to watch it burn.”

Derek blames the hysterics of the day and the general exhausted nature of the week that he broke down and started laughing, eventually needing to sit down as he heaved for air and just _laughed_.

“And it came in _Handy_!”

 

 

 

It's Cold Outside--

 

“Oh my God it’s freezing! Why is it freezing?” Stiles shrieked, doing a crazy Forest Gump jog as he ran into the apartment.

Derek followed at a more sedate pace, laughing lightly, “because its winter?”

“But it’s winter in California! California is not supposed to be freezing! Isn’t there supposed to global warming, shouldn’t it be getting warmer?” Stiles started jumping up and down and rubbing his arms.

“I don’t think that’s how global warming works…” Derek said, taking off his leather jacket and moving to hang it up.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m too cold to think it through.” Stiles waved his hand, “God, I wish I was like Iroh and could just blow that fire steam stuff to heat myself up.”

“What?” Derek asked, squinting pretty hard trying to find some meaning behind the Stiles Gibberish.

“Iroh? General Iroh? Firebender? Avatar? I know I made you watch it.” Stiles said spinning to eye Derek as if forgetting was some sort of crime.

“The movie with the blue people?” Derek tried.

“No! The original Avatar, The Last Airbender, it’s a cartoon.”

“I thought you hated The Last Airbender?” Derek said, he distinctly remembered some ranting to that effect.

“That was the movie The Last Airbender, based on the original cartoon. We don’t speak of the movie. It never happened. Now shut up cause I’m cold and I have horrible circulation.”

 Stiles then proceeded to strip off his jacket and shoes.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you cold?” Derek asked, watching in amusement as Stiles hopped around trying to take off his second shoe without sitting down.

“I’m freezing.” Stiles agreed, stripping off his sweatshirt.

“Okay…” Derek said, then watched Stiles hop onto the couch and curled into a ball.

“Come here,” Stiles said, reaching out and making grabby hands.

“Stiles…” Derek said, looking over at the kitchen table and at the laptop that he should be working on.

“No,” Stiles groaned, “I’m cold.” He waved his arms at Derek again.

“Ugh,” Derek responded, but took off his shoes and moved toward the couch.

Stiles smiled up at him with a shit-eating grin knowing that he had won.

Derek lied down next to him and Stiles immediately rolled over and slid on top of Derek’s body, using him as pillow. He buried his hands under Derek’s arms to warm them.

Stiles pressed his face into Derek’s chest and groaned. “Why is it so cold out there?”

Derek chuckled, his chest shaking Stiles the tiniest bit. Stiles scooted up Derek’s body, burying his cold nose in Derek’s neck. Derek shivered and tucked his head in, trying to protect himself from the cold skin pressed there, while at the same time wrapping his arms around Stiles and pressing him close.

“God, why are you so warm? I love it.” Stiles murmured into Derek’s skin and Derek chuckled again. There was something about Stiles that always made him laugh.

Stiles tangled his legs with Derek and snuggled in closer.

“Stiles, I should be working. I need to get the report sent in before midnight and I’m not even finished writing it, let alone editing.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get it done, I’ll help.” Stiles said, but his voice was getting thicker and Derek could feel Stiles’ eyelashes on his neck as Stiles’ eyes flickered closed and stayed that way.

“How are you going to help?” Derek asked, wrapping his arms tighter around him as his own eyes slipped shut.

“I’ll make coffee and keep you awake and I’ll try not to be distracting with my general sexiness.”

“Not planning on walking around naked?”

“That was once and you had locked yourself in your office for a week working and I was desperate.” Stiles’ lips moved against Derek’s neck and if Derek weren’t getting quite so sleepy he might have considered doing something about that.

Like flip them and press his own lips against any part of skin he could get his hands on.

At the moment he was too sleepy, a little cold but getting warmer, and right now was far too comfortable to move. Sex could wait a little bit. Sleepy sex a lot of fun, but it required sleeping first.

“Hey Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice really slow and more than a little drowsy.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, shifting just a little bit so he was more comfy on his back, adjusting Stiles like a blanket.

“I’m really happy.” Stiles said.

Derek waited for more, like maybe what prompted it, but Stiles weight settled a little more firmly on his chest, his breathing completely smooth and now slowed.

“Me too.” Derek admitted into Stiles’ hair before he too fell asleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It absolutely kills me that this may be the last thing I ever write for Teen Wolf because I had so many AUs in the works and so many partially written pieces, but I'm just not feeling it anymore since I can't stomach watching the show anymore.  
> I will never understand how they lost so many central actors so quickly and just continually killed off their characters even though they should have been a huge part of the story and had so many opportunities for growth that were just never written out. 
> 
> Fuck Jeff Davis.
> 
> Hopefully one day I'll go back and rewatch the first three seasons and get an attack of the plot bunnies or just feel the sudden urge to finish off what I started, but for now I will just have to live with a series of half finished fics and focus on other writing. :'(


End file.
